Roses
by Ready Or Notxx
Summary: And sometimes you stand over his grave, talking to him, and you know that somehow, he understands. Adam/Evan. A semi-long poem. Angst.


Just a short little poem. I was thinking of Adam and Evan. And the roleplay I did with JigsawsDead. (Oh, how I miss it! DX)

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Sometimes there's nothing you can do  
>but watch everything collapse. There<br>are things you can't fix, things that  
>come crashing down in front of you.<br>Things that you had prayed would work,  
>but you never knew they could.<p>

Sometimes everything's perfect. You lay  
>there, your face buried in his chest. He<br>strokes your hair, tells you things will  
>get better, and you believe him. You<br>believe him because it's all you know  
>to believe.<p>

Sometimes you want to pull the trigger,  
>you want to slit your wrists because<br>you've tried so fucking hard to pull  
>yourself out of your own storm. You've<br>tried so hard to be happy when all you  
>can do is hate again.<p>

Sometimes he'll wrap his arms around you  
>and tell you that he's sorry, that it wasn't<br>your fault, that he was just angry and  
>he wants to be happy with you as long as possible.<p>

Sometimes you don't know what he means  
>by "as long as possible" but you continue to<br>accept his comfort, sobbing into the warm  
>fabric that clothes his shoulder. And it helps<br>you, until the hurricane breeches the  
>levees again.<p>

Sometimes something will happen, something  
>you never expected, and your world ambles<br>to the ground once again. He becomes paler,  
>says the words "hospital, hospital, hospital"<br>over and over again. It stabs you to see him like  
>this, because watching him admit help<br>is like seeing him already dead.

Sometimes you'll sit in a chair, next to  
>his beloved bedside, wanting to cry, wanting<br>to climb in the small bed with him and ask him  
>what the hell's going on, but you won't let<br>yourself do that. You won't let yourself  
>cry because it's not the fucking end of<br>the world. You know he'll get better.

Sometimes he wakes up, his black eyes  
>continuing to spread that weird tingling<br>throughout your fingertips. You offer to get him  
>water, and he accepts the offer. Soon he's drinking,<br>but you want to know the answers. You want to  
>know the truth.<p>

Sometimes he puts down the cup and sighs,  
>daring to look you straight in the eye. "I<br>never wanted to tell you," he says softly,  
>and you know by the soothing tone in<br>his voice that something is immediately  
>wrong. "But… I'm sick." And then you ask<br>if he'll get better, but he just says, "No,  
>Adam.<br>I  
>won't<br>get  
>better."<p>

Sometimes the words completely freeze you.  
>You know you want to scream and shout.<br>You know you want to curl up into a ball next  
>to him and cry, beg him to recover even though<br>you know he's deteriorating, even though there's  
>nothing you'll ever be able to do.<p>

Sometimes you do the second choice, even though  
>you'd rather him not see you like this, but who gives<br>a shit, you love him, you tell him this, you love him,  
>you say it again as you plant those gentle kisses along<br>his jawline, and fuck, you're so damn scared, but you  
>shouldn't be, he's the one that's sick, not you.<br>And you stop to wonder… Why couldn't it  
>Have<br>Been  
>You?<p>

Sometimes he tells you he loves you too, his voice  
>growing quieter and his eyes growing duller as the days<br>carry on in a frighteningly fast pace. You always stare  
>at the rise and fall of his chest, rise and fall, rise and fall,<br>because you know you'll never be able to forgive yourself  
>if you see it stop completely. He continues talking to you<br>like he usually does, telling you that it's going to be all right,  
>but he's such a horrible fucking liar that you can't help but<br>smile bitterly.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, long after the nurses  
>have begged you to go home, even though Evan threatened<br>to castrate them if they made you, you brush your hand over  
>his to make sure it's still warm. And he'll turn his head to look<br>at you, and you'll kiss the hand that yours fits perfectly inside  
>of.<p>

Sometimes he'll smile and whisper, "Don't you ever  
>fucking forget me, man." And you'll tell him that you<br>wouldn't dare, that nothing in your right mind would  
>ever make him forget you. "I mean it. This time with<br>you has been… amazing." He'll wrap weak, thin arms  
>around you and whisper shakily in your ear, "I love<br>you."

Sometimes you love someone. And they're all you have.

And sometimes, you wake up at three o clock in the  
>morning. His chest doesn't move anymore. He's<br>deathly cold. His black eyes are closed for good.  
>And you can't help but feeling like he was all<br>you had, the only one who understood you,  
>and now he's forever out of your reach. Now<br>you'll never get to hold him or feel the feeling  
>of him next to you ever again. Now your<br>love has deserted you.

And sometimes, you cry.

Sometimes you cut.

Sometimes you wish to die.

And sometimes, you stand over his  
>grave with roses, talking to him,<br>and you know that somehow,  
>he<br>understands.


End file.
